Color Me Clear
by TiggerTigers
Summary: When Viktor Nikiforov decided to travel the world in search of inspiration, Yakov said he was throwing his life away, giving up everything every figure skater across the whole world could dream of, and for what? ...Apparently for a cute ghost housed within an abandoned Japanese ice rink. Alternate time frame AU. Ghost!Yuri
1. White

**NOTES: Short intro chapter. I like the Viktor spelling, it feels more...real.**

After winning his fifth Grand Prix gold medal, he should've been happy. That's what the newspapers and tabloids and fans said, at least.

But he wasn't - no, that last victory had left him feeling more empty and cold inside than he ever had before on the ice. It was a brilliant performance, difficult in execution, yet executed to perfection. No jumps were missed, no step out of place, nothing wrong at all.

Except there was no love, for Viktor Nikiforov had lost his inspiration a long time ago. He simply did the gestures, made the faces, painted his performance black and white - so perfect and clean and oh so _boring._

And that's why he left. He wanted, no, _needed_ that inspiration, that spark, anything to drag him out of this monochrome mess he'd been drowning in. So he decided to leave Russia in favor of searching the world for it. Yakov said he was throwing his life away, giving up everything every figure skater across the whole world could dream of, and for what?

Apparently for a cute ghost housed within an abandoned Japanese ice rink.

Facing away from him, in a pool of stagnant water that was once an ice rink, there stood a thin man with deep black hair. Upon Viktor's entry, he turned, shock riddling his facial features. It quickly melted away, being replaced with mild confusion.

"Ah," Viktor said, visibly stiffening up. That was all that really _could_ be said, you know? One does not simply prepare for their first ghostly encounter. Although it seemed as though his lack of a greeting didn't sit so badly with the ghost, so he could deal for now. He relaxed a bit.

The ghost's lips moved, fluent Japanese falling flawlessly from phantom lips. Viktor ruffled a bit.

"English-" he began, interrupting the ghost. "Can you speak in English?" He asked gently. The ghost did a double take, realizing his blunder.

"Hello," the ghost said in accented English, waving at Viktor from his place at the center of the rink that hand long since melted into a puddle. The water lay still, leaves and bits of dirt and debris clumped at random intervals. Viktor could imagine it being beautiful when it was in use, the facilities were fairly modern and looked like they had previously been in good condition before the place was abandoned. Sadly it couldn't function as much of anything at the moment. What a shame.

"Do you skate?" Viktor asked. The ghost looked at him, a sad smile tugging its way at the corners of his mouth.

"It's more like ' _Did_ you skate?', wouldn't you think?" The ghost said, smiling a strained smile that didn't reach his eyes and made Viktor's heart tremble.

Viktor regained himself a bit, trying to lighten the mood (he thought it was mildly amusing given the situation). "Okay, smartypants, _did_ you skate?" Viktor raised an eyebrow in question, smiling lightly. The ghost chuckled (Viktor decided that he liked the man's laugh), "Yes, yes I did."

Viktor watched, his breath subconsciously getting caught in his throat as the ghost made his way over. As he approached, the air seemed to get colder, but Viktor didn't mind that.

The Japanese ghost looked to be about five-eight with dark, soft-looking locks that framed his face quite nicely. His cheeks had a natural squish to them, but he still looked fully like the adult Viktor was sure he was. He wore rectangular-rimmed glasses that complimented his facial structure and added to his overall-soft appearance. Chocolate brown eyes locked on his blue ones as the man stopped in front of Viktor. He inspected the Russian man before him for a moment before settling on something within himself.

"My name is Yuri," the man said in his usual soft manner.

"Viktor Ni-... Viktor "

"It's nice to meet you, Viktor."

"Same to you, Yuri." (Viktor liked how the man's name sounded on his tongue)

Yuri smiled.

And Viktor decided that what he _really_ liked, was Yuri's smile.


	2. Slate

It hadn't been anything groundbreaking, really.

And maybe that's what made it so special.

"So, you're from Russia, ne?" Yuri asked, leaning against the rink's wall. His accented English rang with a supernatural echo. Viktor couldn't decide if it was disconcerting or enticing.

"да," Viktor said, shaking off the chill in the air (which he'd blame on the rink if it wasn't currently a massive puddle).

"I was born and raised there, in St. Petersburg," he smiled. "Although I travel often, it still feels a bit strange to be away from home for so long."

Yuri pressed his hand to his chin in thought. "I could see that, not that I have much experience. I never really go - _oh sorry,_ _went_ \- I never _went_ too far from home, personally... I'm sure you miss it?" Yuri said, raising an eyebrow in slight question at Viktor.

"Yes." A pause. "..But, I needed to go. I was drowning there." Yuri's eyes widened at Viktor's sudden confession.

Viktor stiffened. _Ah, he hadn't meant to say that._

He covered quickly, "And honestly, I don't regret leaving... I got to meet such a cute ghost," he added, punctuating with a playful wink in Yuri's direction.

A distraction.

The phantom scoffed, "You're ridiculous. You've known me for about a half-hour, if even." He folded his arms into his chest, shifting his gaze out the window on the far side of the room and idly swirling his ghostly toes through the stagnant water of the rink. He wasn't flustered...okay... only a _tiny bit._

No, he was giving Viktor _space_ \- chance to elaborate or not.

Viktor hadn't distracted him at all.

He smiled to himself, grateful for the option. (Even if he wouldn't take the opportunity this time.)

They fell into a comfortable silence.

Viktor gazed up to the exposed rafter ceiling. He'd already been gone for weeks, having already been to China and Mongolia and Korea with Makkachin in tow (who was currently in Viktor's room at an inn not a mile away). He'd been sure not to post on his various social media accounts during the duration of his travels, lest he be followed by paparazzi and fans thirsting for answers at why he'd called on a sudden retirement. ( _Technically_ it wasn't a retirement though, merely a sudden vacation of sorts. No formal announcement had been made.)

After the initial frenzy that came with his announcement, Viktor had managed to quietly and miraculously slip into the background. He still checked the news, the media, the tabloids. Each platform had its own stories and speculations as to what happened to make him leave so suddenly.

"NIKIFOROV RUNS AWAY TO JOIN THE MAFIA", "NIKIFOROV THREATENED TO RETIRE BY JEALOUS COMPETITOR", and "NIKIFOROV GIVES UP FIVE-YEAR STREAK FOR A SECRET ITALIAN AFFAIR" had all scrolled across is phone screen at one point or another, with the last one giving him a good laugh, speculations about his location were made (all of them being completely wrong, wrong, _wrong_ ), and he'd received so many calls and texts and emails alike that he'd blocked his notifications completely.

And boy, did _that_ feel good. After over a decade of being in the public eye, under scrutiny, under fire, he realized he was finally _free_.

No longer Viktor Nikiforov the figure skater, the great, the prince.

He was simply _Viktor._

Yes, he was grateful for the break.

* * *

They talked for hours.

It was talk among strangers - the strangers being a legend and a myth - but it was simple. It was nothing too abstract or profound or personal.

They talked about the everyday. About mundane tasks. About childish thoughts the'd had as a kid. About which ones had survived trough adulthood. It was light and playful and intimate in that it was so _real_.

Yuri was pleasant and welcoming (especially considering his spectral status). And with him, Viktor found himself able to drop the public face, the perfection, the facade he'd made and molded over the years as his popularity grew and his personality shrank into himself. In that dilapidated rink, filled with grime and dust that was completely unlike his usual surroundings, he was the most comfortable he'd been in a long time.

And maybe that was what made Viktor come the next day, and the next, and the next.

On the first day, Yuri was confused as to why Viktor came back to that place. On the second, he was even more so. On the third, he began to accept that this was just a part of his life now.

 _(Not that he was complaining, or anything.)_

* * *

At some point, he became anxious.

"Why do you come every day?" Yuri asks bluntly as he tries to skip a stone on the rink pond, having been frustrated at what must've been the dozenth failed attempt. He sighed as the smooth stone floated to the bottom of the pool with the others. Viktor laughed.

"What, do you not want me?" Viktor purrs, hoping his tone would hide his slight fear that maybe Yuri really _didn't_ want him there at all.

"Nien, nien, nien, nien, nien!" Yuri sputtered out, frantically waving his arms in his fervor. Viktor watched bemusedly until Yuri calmed down.

"Īe!" He said firmly in his native tongue. "I enjoy your company, Viktor. Don't get me wrong."

"It's just... I haven't talked to, well, _anyone_ in a very long time," Yuri sighed again, picking up another stone from his pile (that Viktor had collected from outside the day before). He turned it over and over in his hands, the smooth edges also smoothing out his nerves. He had gotten used to Viktor's presence over the few days he's known the Russian. And after getting to know him better, he was completely dumbfounded how a man like him waltzed in, saw his ghostly form creeping around the abandoned ice rink, and hadn't backed straight the fuck out.

"I'm not very confident that anyone would enjoy the company of a depressing ghost like me, you know?" He focused is eyes on his stone, careful not to let Viktor see his face.

"Especially an... amazing person like you," Yuri added softly. He didn't know why he felt so nervous in that moment. He felt naked under the man's stare. Viktor smiled, taking the stone from Yuri's hand. Yuri watched the man's actions.

"мой дорогой фантом, you needn't worry about me, for I assure you," he brought the stone to his lips and pecked it lightly. "If such an 'amazing person' as myself didn't want to meet you again..."

He reached out for Yuri's hands. The ghost flinched, cradling his hands into his chest. Viktor's smile receded, just for a moment.

Slowly, Viktor placed the stone in front of Yuri where he was sitting on the ground. Yuri stared. Viktor smiled brightly.

"...I would simply not return."

Yuri paused in thought, then gingerly picked up the stone. He turned to the pool, rearing his arm back in a throw.

It glided perfectly across the water.

* * *

мой дорогой фантом = my dear phantom (if this is wrong then blame google translate)

 **It's kinda short cuz im impatient. I wanted to write something cute right now so i did. I regret viktor saying his last name in the first chapter. I'm changing it. Hope you guys like this?**


End file.
